


The Noise

by 5bluetriangles



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Autistic Eddie Brock, Eddie Brock Needs A Hug, Gen, Poor Eddie freaking out, eddie asked him to turn his music down nicely first come on neighbor dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18529279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5bluetriangles/pseuds/5bluetriangles
Summary: A take on why the loud ass music across the hall effects Eddie so much.





	The Noise

**Author's Note:**

> As a bloke who's autistic and after seeing a couple headcannons on Eddie being autistic; I couldn't help but think of the scene with his neighbor in a slightly different light cuz damn if noises that loud don't freak me out like that too and so I had to write a quick little something

Through a life of being surrounded by people who were ‘normal’; Eddie was pretty good at acting fine.

Even when he wasn’t.

Even when eyes bore holes into his own and made him want to run, even when that particular type of paper dragged over his skin and left his fingernails _itching_ , even when his fingers were sticky and it felt like every little skin cell was clinging to others that they weren’t supposed to.

He could handle a lot –or at least keep himself from flipping his lid, having thirty-six years under his belt.

But The _Noise_.

He knew he was sensitive; other people didn’t count the pattern of the leaky faucet next door dripping while trying to sleep, didn’t subconsciously keep track of where the neighbors right above them were in their apartment, didn’t flinch like he did when someone coughed or had a particularly surprising sneeze.

But The Noise was just too much.

He didn’t know when it was coming, how loud it was going to be, how long it would go. It happened three or four times a week but it didn’t stick to certain days or times.

There was no fucking _pattern_.

And Eddie was good at finding patterns in things that seemingly didn’t have one.

He could be cooking -sort of-, lifting weights, working on finding a job, perhaps wallowing in his depression even, and that asshole across the hall would start it up.

The feedback of the amp would screech, carving open his skull and piercing his ears, making him push his palms against his ears frantically before the actual guitar would come in.

The notes were hurried and high, and maybe if the noise wasn’t so loud it wouldn’t send his heart racing with anxiety.

But it _was_ loud.

So, so _loud_.

Eddie bore his teeth and screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught of auditory overstimulation and pain.

_Same-thing_ his mind would subconsciously beg, or it would cry for him to pat his leg, to find the little fidget toy he had lying somewhere, _something_ , wanting comfort.

After a growl of anger; Eddie would hurry to his bed to the cool, smooth pillowcases and the thick but light and airy blanket that smelled like him and made him feel a bit better. He would grip and pull at his hair as he collapsed onto the bed and claw at a pillow to drag it over and cover his head.

But then he had picked up a…parasite, according to Dan.

The guitar started up for the second night in a row right after his phone call with Anne and Dan and he had kicked his trash can down in his anger before the screeching notes came and left him reeling.

He hadn’t thought that it could get worse than all those other days but suddenly it felt like his goddamn molecules were being ripped apart and if not for the way he screwed up his face and grit his teeth; he probably would have sobbed or yelled.

It was the last straw. He had been having the worst day he’d had since Anne left him, couldn’t take the noise anymore -not that he could in the first place-, and he was feeling suddenly confrontational, sending him to storm out of his apartment and pound frantically on the door across from his.

The music blissfully stopped and the door opened to reveal his neighbor who looked him over, obviously annoyed by the interruption and the nature of his knocking.

“Yeah?” the man asked, irritated.

“Hey man can you turn your music down please?” he rasped. “’cause I’m havin’ a _really_ hard time.”

A scoff and a “whatever” was all Eddie got in return.

He wasn’t _entirely_ sure what he did as his hunger, frustration, exhaustion, and lightheadedness suddenly swirled together but he felt a rush of power and snarled and the strange feeling of not being in complete control of himself that had been plaguing him returned; but his neighbor had stumbled back in bewilderment.

He shifted in the doorway, eyes looking to his neighbor with unsureness, but the man just shakily nodded and said “Sure man, I’ll turn it right down” and he quickly turned to flee, muttering “thank you” as his heart pounded in his ears.

With his door shut behind him; Eddie pinned himself against it, panting slightly and clutching his chest.

Sure, maybe he apparently had a parasite and was pretty sure he was going insane; but The Noise was gone and he hadn’t shutdown or had a meltdown.

In fact, after he had calmed down a bit; the only thought in his mind was how _hungry_ he was.


End file.
